


Mark Zuckerberg Plus Guest

by orphan_account



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Closeted Character, Coming Out, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark brings Eduardo to his aunt's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark Zuckerberg Plus Guest

“And you are absolutely sure you can’t be bribed. Under no circumstances whatsoever?” Eduardo says in his faux-business voice, even as his hands absently toy with Mark’s in his lap. His eyes are sparkling with good humor, an expression that Mark personally thinks is far too fond for someone in the process of being rejected.

They are at the back of the expansive room, the only ones seated at a table otherwise occupied by a recent-divorcee on the groom's side. The man in question had been scarce ever since the first dance, either muttering darkly into his cellphone or refilling his glass at the bar. The sparse seating arrangement was a strategic choice designed to assuaged both Mark and the bride. Mark watches as the laptop-DJ lording over a hoard of bridesmaids, ravaged by male pattern baldness and high blood pressure. Eduardo should know by now.

"Under no conceivable circumstances, no."

In the distance, a toddler in a white dress and an unraveling French braid barrels through one of the couples after another child. There's some kind of dark stain all over her hands that looks especially ominous. 

“Even if...,” Eduardo starts and Mark can suddenly feel a finger on the inside of his thigh. It's hidden from view by the tablecloth, but the uncharacteristically bold move almost distracts Mark from the sensation. Then Eduardo's teasing voice is in Mark's ear. He feels it low and hushed and unexpected all the way down his spine, “Even if I could get us a hotel room? And you could bend me over the bed and then on that shitty desk with all the complimentary stationary." The hand rubbed a little higher. His voice somehow dropped another octave, practically purring, "You could code afterwards and there’d be no Dustin to bother us.”

Every muscle in Mark’s body freezes in defiance. He stares ahead with a resolute intensity that's nearly comical. Eduardo watches as his jaw tightens. Mark seems to be making a concerted effort not to breathe.

“The Wi-Fi here is pathetic,” Mark finally responds, forgoing eye contact. His speech is even more clipped than usual. “I don't see the purpose of staying somewhere when they can’t even provide basic amenities.”

“Jesus,” Eduardo barks out a laugh, tossing up both hands into the air, “You’re really serious about this aren’t you? Fine, I give up. I’m gonna go have fun.” He pats Mark’s knee before standing.

Hip-hop shifts to 80s pop on the dance floor. Garish, swirling red and purple lights circle over their heads. By way of developing habit, Eduardo bends down and captures Mark's lips for a kiss goodbye. Mark stiffens in response.

“Hey, hey- Mark don’t worry, no one saw,” Eduardo soothes.

“Of course not.” Mark deadpans. “A child is attempting to master the use of its legs mere feet away. They're enthralled.”

“Well, you know where I’ll be if you change your mind,” Eduardo does his best impression of unaffected.

Mark wills back the bile rising in his throat as he scans the room. Flowers surround him on every side like some kind of funeral parlor. There is nothing about this that he might even remotely enjoy. Hell will freeze over before he caves.

“Watch out for my grandmother,” Mark quips before Eduardo is out of earshot. When Eduardo pauses to turn back, Mark rambles, “She was a big fan of Antonio Banderas in the 90s. Anything remotely Latino, she can’t tell the difference.”

The sentence is punctuated by Mark hastily taking a sip of someone’s abandoned champagne. Most likely the divorcee's. It’s not that he can’t survive a few minutes of a wedding without Eduardo. He'd just prefer not to. The rising dread in his chest is perfectly normal. Eduardo gives Mark his middle finger, buttoning his jacket and turning back towards the floor.

Mark holds another beat before yelling, “Wardo! Were you serious about the room?” But to no avail.

Drowned out by the music, Mark’s eyes follow Eduardo’s receding form. Eduardo looks amazing in the suit; it’s an objective fact. Mark doesn't usually deem fashion worthy of his attention. Nevertheless, he finds himself hungrily, shamelessly staring at the long, uninterrupted lines Eduardo’s slacks up to the perfect curve of his ass, the hug of his jacket around his thin waist and the flare of his white collar at his throat. Of course Eduardo had been on the phone with his tailor mere minutes after Mark had invited him to the wedding. Only the most expensive suit would do. The word “date” was practically visible on his face, happily ricocheting inside Eduardo’s head.

The Macarena begins to play to a smatteirng of cheers. A group of teenagers congregates behind a fake potted plant nearby, seemingly unaware of the siren song. Mark guesses they’re planning to deface hotel property – or whatever people with tiny intellects ruled by peer approval and needlessly rebellious tendencies did these days. Across the room, Eduardo grins and unfolds his arms in perfect time with the tune. The bride, Mark’s aunt, does her best impression of dance despite the crushing weight of taffeta and silk pulling her towards the ground. They all look ridiculous. Even Eduardo looks like an over-sized grade schooler. For a moment Mark nearly regrets extending the invitation.

But he had asked Eduardo to come because they were - well they were doing whatever they were doing. It didn’t mean he had to hold Eduardo’s hand or make small talk to relatives with his arm around Eduardo’s waist, or introduce him to every inquisitive party. His personal life wasn’t any of these people’s business. Besides, it had been several years since he’d gotten a birthday card from his aunt, let alone talked dating.

Mark certainly wasn’t going to dance in front of them.

The rotating track lights over the floor twirl from above. Mark feels a headache coming on. He stares dejectedly at his now empty champagne glass, fingering the long glass stem. Suddenly, a shimmering jacket sleeve and a knee length skirt came into his vision. By the time he registers what's happening, it's too late. 

“Mark! Honey, there you are!” his aunt, the eldest not currently getting married, stops her husband to take one of the many empty chairs beside Mark. “I thought you had decided not to show!” she crowed, “But here you are. So hard to get a hold of you, your mother says!”

Sharon (Mark thinks that’s her name) holds out her arms as if anticipating a hug. When Mark fails to respond, she drops them to her lap while keeping up a smile. A drastically slower song begins as Mark searches for Eduardo in the thinning crowd. He finally spots him talking closely with his cousin, Julie, her arms moving to wrap around Eduardo’s neck. Mark tears his eyes away. Why should he care. He doesn't care.

“I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to my studies,” Mark responds tersely, trying and failing to decipher Eduardo's conversation. “It’s a demanding course load.”

She blinks back at him for a moment. “Oh, yes, yes!” Sharon nudges her husband’s knee, “Mark’s in Harvard, honey, isn’t that right?”

“That’s what his mother said Sharon,” Her husband (Lewis maybe?) replies.

“Well I always said you had a good head on your shoulders. I only wish you’d rub off on our son. I can hardly get him to do his laundry, never mind college applications!” She chuckles to herself.

Mark drums his fingers on the slippery material covering the table and does his best to tune her out.

___

 

Eduardo smiles as he compliments Julie's necklace, a swirl of gold, shaped like a looping J. She is a good six inches shorter, with a pleasant face and a perfume Eduardo recognizes from his own sister. He had immediately accepted her offer to dance. After all, he's nothing if not accommodating - especially for one of Mark's relatives. They've been making small talk ever since she approached him, negotiating the space between their bodies as they danced.

“You really came with Mark?” she cuts in, cocking her head to the side.

Eduardo simply nods, struck by an irrational fear of oversharing. For Mark's sake anyways. He calms himself by looking around; guests mingling, shifting in their formal wear and pulling at food on sticks with their teeth by the buffet.

“No offense, but he’s terrible at making friends,” Julie informs him. She tucks back a strawberry blonde curl and looks up through her eyelashes, “Especially not friends like you.”

“Well,” Eduardo grapples, “I don’t know what that means exactly, but...Mark, he's one of my best friends at school. He's honestly an incredible guy, once you get past the...” They simultaneously glance over towards Mark- slouched at the table, half-conscious. Julie’s expression of disbelief causes him to laugh out loud. “No, really.”

“I think it's adorable,” Julie coos, tightening her hold. Eduardo's heart rate picks up and he instead fixes his stare on an elderly couple nearby, wondering how much longer the song will last. Suddenly, as if by magic or force of will, their movement stops.

Eduardo peers over to see none other than Mark tapping Julie’s shoulder. She turns to face him with a look that clearly signals her complete lack of patience for anything he was about to say. Unflinching, Mark stares directly back.

He pauses. When she doesn't immediately disappear, he elaborates, "You can go now.”

“What the fuck Mark,” she hisses, leaning forward with her hands balled into fists. “This isn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be. Wardo is my date. We're exclusive.” He belatedly motions between them as way of introduction, “Wardo, Julie. I-You’re making this difficult.”

Eduardo’s expression nearly rivals that of the bride’s, torn between embarrassment at Mark’s behavior and overwhelming glee.

“You? And Mark? You're...” her eyes go wide, darting between the two of them, “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” Mark swallows but does his best to stare down his nose at her. Julie backs up, mouth agape. She’s still scanning their faces for some kind of further explanation. When neither offers a punch line, she turns her back without another word.

“Wow, I would hate to be you at the next family reunion,” Eduardo's chuckle stalls slightly in his throat.

“She’ll get over it.” Mark seems to hunch a little further into his suit jacket. “I don’t know how to do this,” Mark finally blurts out, eyes anywhere but Eduardo. There’s enough anxiety thrumming in Mark’s body for the two of them. Eduardo feels himself relax.

“Here,” he gently offers. Eduardo cautiously takes Mark's hand and guides it to his waist. When Mark doesn’t run, Eduardo moves in closer, nose almost brushing Mark’s forehead. Speaking into his hairline, Eduardo whispers, “Good, yea. It’s simple see?” Mark nods before offering what Eduardo assumes is something akin to a smile. The heat of Mark’s palm at the small of his back grounds them. They continue in some sort of bastardization of the waltz Eduardo learned for his Bar Mitzvah.

In a moment of confidence, Eduardo dips to align his nose with Mark’s. The distance between them is strikingly intimate, something that would undoubtedly draw attention if the wrong person looked over. He wants so badly to kiss him, but he pipes up for reassurance instead. “You’re sure you’re ok with this? I didn't mean to - "

“I’m fine.”

“Mark,” he challenges without heat.

“Wardo.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” They remain connected at the waist, hardly moving at the edge of the designated parquet floor.

Eduardo thinks he catches the sound of someone giggling. He imagines Mark’s extended family whispering amongst themselves and holds onto Mark a little tighter. Eduardo wonders with a sinking feeling if he’d have the guts to do this if their roles were reversed. The last notes of the song fade out. There’s a moment of quiet before a dance song breaks the spell, drawing in a significantly larger crowd to the floor. Mark halts but doesn’t let go. The speakers boom and fizzle as the chorus kicks in.

“Wanna get out of here?” Eduardo smiles shakily.

“Yes,” Mark nods furiously, taking Eduardo’s hand and leading the way.


End file.
